


Those Left Behind

by scifiromance



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Suicide, Tragedy, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifiromance/pseuds/scifiromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original "Endgame" timeline. The story of the deaths that changed a timeline, Seven and Chakotay's. C/7. Warning: Very sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A/n: WARNING: This story is underTragedy for a reason, it’s sad almost from the outset and is only going to get more so. Now you can’t say I didn’t warn you. Please review.**

The desolate Class L planet almost completely filled the Astrometrics view screen. Seven looked down at the scans and sighed deeply, they gave her even less information than the ones Icheb had run on his trip to the surface the day before, throwing no further light on the mysterious alien technology encased within the planet’s solitary structure. Thinking back she knew it had been unwise of her to give the Captain hope that this device could aid Voyager in their mission to return to the Alpha Quadrant. Chakotay had been right when he’d warned her that the Captain could be “like a dog with a bone” in such cases, but she supposed it was that reckless determination that had got Voyager through the last ten years. That was small consolation to her, she would still need to go down to this planet and work relentlessly until the Captain’s slim bit of hope had given out and Voyager could move on. She couldn’t stop herself from sighing again at the prospect of how long that would take. “Good Morning Crewman, I don’t think I gave you a duty shift for this morning.”

Seven’s mood immediately shot up several notches but she didn’t turn to face the source of the deep soft voice, only smirked and replied in the same teasing tone, “Apparently some wives get terms of endearment in the morning, not that I have any personal experience of it, all I get is “Crewman”.”

Chakotay chuckled good-naturedly, they both knew the use of ranks as pet names was a long standing joke between them, ever since they’d started dating three years before and the tradition still lingered even after two years of marriage. Contritely he walked to her side and put his arm round her waist, coiling her body against his as he kissed her lovingly and deeply. Eventually pulling back slightly to look in her eyes he murmured huskily, “Better?”

Seven looked at him flirtatiously through her eyelashes. “Most satisfactory.” She replied softly before lightly resting her head against his neck with a small sigh.

“What are you doing in here so early? I really _didn’t_ give you a duty shift.” He asked into her loose hair, rubbing her tense shoulders as he did so.

“I am preparing for my visit to the planet’s surface.”

“What? You told me last night Icheb didn’t find anything particularly promising…”

“The Captain told me an hour ago she still wishes to continue, she has ordered me to examine the device myself…”

“No offence Seven but if Icheb didn’t find anything after eighteen hours down there  you’re probably not going to find anything either.”

“I know, I told her as much but you know the Captain…”

Chakotay’s shoulders sagged slightly, he did know the Captain. Distractedly he twisted a strand of her hair around his finger. “Don’t worry, if you don’t find anything it’s not the end of the world. If you become a worrier your hair will turn grey like mine.”

Seven ran her hand through his thick black hair with only a sprinkling of white hair at the temples. “There is no evidence that there is a psychological reason for greying hair.” She kissed him affectionately, “The age gap between us remains the same.” She reminded him gently.

“Hmm…” he mumbled distractedly as his lips moved down her neck.

“Chakotay…I’m working…” Seven half-heartedly reprimanded, although she was rapidly becoming breathless.

“You don’t have to be.”

“Later…” She hit his arm when he groaned, “I promise!”

He reluctantly straightened back up and asked more seriously, “When do you go?”

“1100 hours.”

“Who’s going with you? Do I have a chance?”

“Lieutenants Kim and Paris, which is a good thing because much as I love you your piloting skills leave much to be desired and the proton field in the atmosphere makes the transporter unusable.”

Chakotay took her hands and held them tight. “Insulting my piloting skills is a rare privilege, don’t over use it!” he laughed. “Do you have time to have breakfast with me?”

Seven glanced back at her stack of work before lifting her eyes to his with a smile. “I’ll make time, let’s go.” With that they left Astrometrics hand in hand.

* * *

 

“Any luck yet Seven?” Tom Paris’ voice echoed through to where she knelt within an access panel beneath the huge device of unknown origin.

Wiping the beads of sweat from her brow she couldn’t help but be a little sharp with her reply, since it was the fifth time he’d asked her in a thirty minute period. “ _No_ , Lieutenant.”

“For God’s sake Tom, didn’t your mother ever tell you patience is a virtue?” asked the newly promoted Harry Kim.

“Dad did, I get my impatience from my Mom. You’re one to talk Harry Kim; you’ve been burning my ear off for the last couple of days about how big a breakthrough this could be for us.”

“We think it _creates_ wormholes, of course I’m excited!” he retorted.

Seven used her aching, tired knees to crawl out into the room. “Unfortunately having a theory and putting it into practice are two very different things.”

“Got something you need to be home for Seven?” asked Tom teasingly.

“Yes and so do you I believe, Chakotay told me it’s B’Elanna’s birthday tomorrow and you have yet to plan anything.”

“Don’t remind me! I haven’t even replicated a present yet! We probably should be going back, we’ve pulled eight full hours and the weather’s getting bleak out there.”

Harry’s head popped up from behind the console, looking disappointed. “Alright you win. We can always come back tomorrow. I’ll just run one last scan.” He ran his specialised tricorder over the console, a curious frown forming as he looked at the results. “Seven, come look at this. Part of it’s been activated!”

Seven rose up into a standing position and joined him at the console, looking at his results. “It must be programmed to react to certain atmospheric conditions. If I can…” Her words stopped in her throat and became a horrific scream as suddenly a huge beam erupted from the console and hit her at full force, throwing her against the wall like a ragdoll.

“Seven!” cried Tom and Harry in petrified unison, running to her blindly despite the danger. At the sight of her injuries their eyes widened in shock and fear. Tom knew that his medic training wouldn’t help this, there was a huge gaping hole in her torso and an even larger exit wound in her back, in a matter of seconds blood had already completely drenched her and the surrounding area. Tapping his comm. badge Tom called out urgently to Voyager, “Emergency medical transport!”

Seven, staring straight ahead, her eyes wild with pain, choked out, “They can’t…the…proton field…”

Tom swore under his breath and began to lift her. “What are you doing?” cried Harry as Seven uttered a ragged groan at the movement.

“Taking her to the shuttle. Hold her head.” Tom ordered.

Harry hurriedly did so and they began to move as fast as they dared back to the shuttle. Seven felt her eyes begin to roll to the back of her head. “Chakotay…” she whimpered fearfully.

Harry heard her and lowered his head to her. “It’s Harry and Tom here Seven. We’re taking you back to him, you just stay awake okay?”

* * *

 

Chakotay was sitting languidly in his chair in the Bridge when Tom’s voice reverberated round the room. “We’re coming back, tell the Doctor to meet us in the shuttle bay.”

The frantic edge in Tom’s voice made him sit up. What could be so serious that the Doctor had to go to them? The Captain must have been thinking along the same lines for she immediately asked, “Who is it Tom?”

A sickening pause. “It’s Seven. Get Chakotay down there too won’t you?” The extra sentence wasn’t needed, Chakotay bolted towards the door, shivering as if he’d been immersed in ice water, his breathing shortening to hyperventilation as he ran, his brain screaming in denial the whole way.

“Understood Tom.” Said the Captain shakily before calling the Doctor. “Doctor, it’s Seven. Go to the shuttle bay _now_.”

“Understood Captain.” As soon as she heard the Doctor’s reply, the Captain followed in Chakotay’s footsteps to the shuttle bay.

* * *

 

Pain. Hot and searing and yet she felt so cold, unnaturally so. Out of the corner of her rapidly receding vision she could she her implants sparking as they destabilized one by one. The Borg warnings rang in her ears, making her whole skull hurt. Her lungs weren’t functioning properly, as if they’d turned to stone, but they were filled with fluid she couldn’t seem to expel. Were her legs gone? She couldn’t feel them…With shocking bluntness the realisation came. She was dying. A sob became a cough and the sweet taste of blood filled her mouth. An image floated above her head, Chakotay. He would miss her, his suffering would be great, she didn’t want that. She should tell him. “Chakotay…”

“You’ll see him soon Seven.” Her eyes, with a great deal of effort, focused on Harry sitting before her and Tom in his pilots’ chair.

“Harry…Tom…” More blood. “You will…look…after him…won’t you?”

“We all look after each other on Voyager Seven, like we’re looking after you now.” Tom told her with shooting pains of grief spiralling up his heart.

That wasn’t enough. “Tell…him…that…I love…”

Harry seized her arm. “Don’t do that Seven! You’ll tell him that yourself okay?” He turned angrily to Tom as he saw Seven’s eyes grow even dimmer, her face grey and contorted. “For the love of God Tom, hurry up!”

* * *

 

Chakotay ran into the shuttle bay and into the shuttle almost before it was safe, before even the Doctor or the Captain. The sight that greeted him made his heart leave his body, twisting his stomach into cruel knots. “Chakotay…” Harry started, holding him back but he pushed him aside and ran to where Seven lay, kneeling down and pressing his hands over her still face.

“Seven…” he croaked out pleadingly.

Miraculously her eyes fluttered open and after a few seconds the light of recognition lit her dull eyes and she breathed out his name. “Chakotay…” He saw sure he saw the ghost of a relieved smile pass over her lips as she said it.

He valiantly tried to force back his sobs but they were only thinly veiled in his shaking voice. “Oh sweetheart…”

“C…cold…” she managed to whisper out, he felt his chest buckle in fear but blindly following instinct lifted her into his arms and onto his lap, gently cradling her, hoping his warmth, his life, would somehow seep into her.

The Doctor finally appeared, his face drained of all colour, his grip tightening on his medical kit until his knuckles turned white. Regaining control he joined Chakotay on the floor, running a scan over her and then muttering “Oh God” under his breath before setting out to stop the tide of death. “Seven, can you hear me? I’m going to help you okay?”

She seemed utterly unaware of his presence, her eyes fixed on Chakotay’s face. “Hurts…” she whispered, her head lolling against Chakotay’s chest.

Chakotay had to gulp hard to enable speech. “I know honey…I know…the Doctor…he’s helping you…”

Her fingers suddenly clutched his sleeve in an iron grip. “I’m…sorry…for…give…me…”

An angry frightened sob broke through now. “Seven, there’s absolutely _nothing_ to forgive! Don’t say things like that please…”

Seven shuddered as the Doctor did something to her, but she found the strength somewhere to speak again. “I…love…you…”

Tears began to course down his cheeks. “I know…I love you so much…that’s why you have to stay here with me my love…” He felt the Doctor begin to work even more frantically beside him but Seven’s lips parted again. “No…no don’t talk…you’re not well…” The sound of the cortical stimulator’s alarm cut mercilessly through the air and Seven instantly went completely limp in his arms. “Seven… _Seven_!” His panicked shout made everyone gathered in the shuttle bay run to the shuttle.

“60 kilojoules...” No effect. “70 kilojoules…80…” Chakotay didn’t know how long he sat there listening to the Doctor’s commands but he was aware of when the Doctor’s shoulders slumped, when he turned to a sobbing Captain with a shake of the head.

“Do it again!” he shouted angrily at the Doctor, wrenching his eyes away from Seven for a moment.

“Chakotay…”

“ _Do it again_! I’m ordering you!” he screamed hysterically.

The Doctor put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “It wouldn’t matter. She’s gone…”

He wrenched himself away and gazed desperately down at Seven’s face, rubbing her cheek with his thumb as he had done so many times as she slept to wake her. “Seven…wake up…come back my love…please…” His eyes found the smudge of blood his thumb had left on her face, that wasn’t right. She would have wiped that away, she couldn’t stand imperfection after all and yet she ignored it, remained still and unmoving. It was then that it hit him and his heart and soul crumpled with his body into grief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Chakotay?” The voice tunnelled its way into his ear and brain, unwillingly his eyes began to focus on the silhouette which filled the threshold, framed by light seeping in from the hallway. “Chakotay?” This time he succeeded putting a name to the voice, B’Elanna. Why was she here? His mental voice, rusty from lack of use, asked. Because these are her quarters, hers and Tom’s and Miral’s, answered the embattled voice of his inner reason. This realisation didn’t cause any great change, his body didn’t respond in any way and his mind rapidly dismissed her presence altogether. “Chakotay…you have to get up…today at least…” Part of him wanted to close his eyes to her, but he knew that wouldn’t stop the torturous pain that was flourishing within him. Gradually his eyes lifted to meet hers, when they did a far away part of his consciousness told him that she wasn’t going to let him be, the pathetic flash of a smile she gave him confirmed this and she lowered a bundle he hadn’t noticed before by his feet at the other side of the couch. He watched listlessly as her lips and throat moved simultaneously as a gulp. “I brought your formal uniform… The Captain says its standard procedure for a funeral but I’m sure she’d…” His head jerked back suddenly, lifted off the couch’s scratchy fabric, damp with tears shed under the blessed cover of darkness. She stepped back, seemingly startled by the abruptness of his movement, “I’ll take it back…” she muttered hastily, almost to herself.

“Leave it.” For a moment he wasn’t sure if it was he himself who spoke the words but he’d felt his muscles move to produce the sound and there was no one else in the room, not that he would have been fully aware even if there was.

“Okay…” Her arm extended to touch his but she seemed to rethink at the last possible second and her hand hung in the air for a moment until she let it fall to her side. “Tom and I will come and get you okay?”

The expected nod came, slow and heavy, she nodded too but with briskness. Dimly he registered the doors closing behind her with their regular swish and he saw that as a cue to sit up. The supposedly metaphorical weight of grief made his movements slow and exhaustive but his hands, by the knowledge of ten years of habit alone, found the uniform and mechanically put it on. Finding himself standing in front of a floor length mirror, he clipped on the three plain gold studs which announced his position in this world with unsteady fingers as he gazed at his reflection. He’d never liked the uniform much, particularly the formal set, it seemed so pompous, so self-important, that was part of the reason he’d worn a tux for his wedding. Seven, on the other hand, had once told him she had thought he couldn’t look any better than in his uniform…until she’d seen him without anything on. The memory fractured the fragile equilibrium he’d formed, suddenly his reflection changed, the uniform was soaked with blood, _her_ blood. The next thing he was aware of there was a strangled tortured cry, the crack of breaking glass and pain surging up his nerves from his right hand. The reflection changed again, now fragmented into sections with the glass. His eyes travelled in morbid fascination down to his fist, the sharp chunks of glass embedded in the knuckles, the blood dripping steadily down to the carpet. Maybe he would just let it bleed; enjoy the distraction while it lasted…

Tom’s shocked voice echoed loudly in his ears, though in reality it was soft with concern. “Chakotay, what the hell…” Turning his head to see Tom and B’Elanna’s frightened eyes, a panicky thought ran through him, I’m going insane…why do I have to feel like this?

B’Elanna got over the shock first, wrenching her eyes away from the bloody fist and ruined mirror and putting her hand on Tom’s arm. “We need to go…”

Tom came out of it and picked up a dermal regenerator from the dresser. “Right…” Chakotay gave him his hand allowing him to heal the injury without complaint; fighting back the frightened tears which made his entire body shake. They guided him out into the hall and Tom went to follow him but B’Elanna held him back, looking at him pleadingly.

“I’m worried Tom, the Doctor should give him something if he’s hurting himself…”

“B’Elanna it was an outburst. I’m almost relieved to see it, he’s been practically catatonic for two days and anyway the Doctor’s hardly any better than him, he deactivated himself as soon as the autopsy was done…I had to talk him into attending the funeral…”

“Chakotay doesn’t have the luxury of _deactivating_ himself! You don’t know Chakotay like I do, you see him as a pillar of reserve and control but he doesn’t cope well with grief, when his father was murdered he joined the Maquis...”

“B’Elanna, he learned to cope with that and hopefully he’ll learn to cope with losing Seven, he hasn’t had time to even accept the fact that she’s gone…”

“Have any of us?” asked B’Elanna bluntly.

* * *

  
The coffin sat in the centre of the Mess Hall, draped conspicuously in a Federation flag, four Ensigns standing guard but his mind seemed to distance its self from that scene in self preservation. Light unknown hands guided him firmly to a chair and he sank into it. His head throbbed, his eyes burned, the cruelly bright lights illuminating everything he wished to block out entirely. His peripheral senses heard the crew and their sympathetic whispers, the sobs emanating from Naomi Wildman. His eyes saw Icheb, his face half Borg stoicism and half child like vulnerability; tears leaving tracks on his cheeks and wounds in his soul, his hand went to his own face and felt the now familiar dampness.

The Captain stood at the podium, like a preacher to her flock. He, indifferent to the grief everyone else could hear, would later be unable to recall a word of what she said, the words washing painfully over him as the unstoppable tide of grief slammed into him again and again. The sharp cutting serenade of whistles pulled him out of his stupor for a moment to see the Captain folding the flag which had covered the coffin. Kathryn, you’re kidding yourself if you think you truly brought her under the flag of the Federation in life, he thought with sudden clarity. She rebelled against it the whole way, I admired that, it attracted the Maquis in me, the part that wanted to reject all this…the supposed superiority of the Federation. Nothing about this is right; it can’t just end this way…with being blown out of an airlock into space. “It was only chance that you didn’t suck me out an airlock when you first met me Chakotay.” The memory of her voice was so real he jumped, for a millisecond he thought she was beside him but the realisation of reality obliterated the split second of joy and was replaced by indescribable agony as he felt the ship jolt into warp, leaving her behind forever.

**A/n: Please review.**

   


	3. Chapter 3

The graceful curtain of stars, planets and nebulas spread out across the Astrometrics view screen, beautiful in that desolate lonely way a deep sea or a sun drenched desert was beautiful but really this Alpha Quadrant space was no more or less spectacular than the Delta Quadrant space they’d left the day before and yet it was supposedly special. Still, he was no longer sure why it should so be so to him. At least he knew that all around him, beyond the two Starfleet vessels that flanked Voyager’s hull like bodyguards, the entire universe was teeming with life…

“Chakotay, what are you doing in here?” He didn’t even bother to turn to face the familiar voice, although he was more than a little surprised that she had come in here, like everyone else, excluding himself and Icheb, she avoided the place like the plague. He could explain to her that the opposite was true for him, that stepping in here was like collapsing into a warm embrace, a place he could retreat to and relieve somewhat the pressure cooker of emotions that frequently built up in his brain.

He didn’t say that of course, after twenty three years he knew what she could and could not understand, and that fell firmly into the latter category. “Just thinking, Captain.”

He thought he heard a soft “ahh” and he turned to see her leave her place just over the threshold and come to join him at the console, but not without a visible shudder. His mother would have said that someone had walked over her grave, but he felt it was more to do with Seven and she didn’t have a grave, well, this place was a monument of sorts, the only one she would ever have, except perhaps his heart. He drew back from those memories with painful regret, but he knew from experience that they would return, it was like being a moth, burned by the flame but always wanting to get closer. “About home?” Her smiled question pulled him out of his thoughts. Home? What did that mean anyway? He nodded deliberately, hoping that would satisfy her. It did. “We’ve just passed Betazed; we should be back on Earth within four days.”

“We could make that distance in three.” He commented passively.

“Tom doesn’t want to push the engines too hard after that trip through the wormhole and anyway Starfleet has to prepare for our arrival.”

What had happened to this crew? At one time Tom would have pushed the ship to warp threshold to get Voyager home a millisecond faster and now they were travelling sedately through space as if they’d only taken a short vacation and not been lost in uncharted territory for twenty three years! If Seven was watching this her eyebrows would be raised in incredulous disbelief, a brief smile passed across his face at the thought but it faded almost as soon as it had come. “Don’t be too disappointed, we’ve been waiting long enough.” Said the Captain jokingly but with a bitter shadow in her eyes.

He looked at her for a moment, how could she misread him so completely? The point was he wasn’t disappointed, as a matter of a fact he felt completely indifferent to the whole situation. He forgave her, wrapped up in her own excitement as she was, looking ready to clap her hands like a young girl. “What did you really come to tell me Kathryn? You look ready to burst.” He said with gentle knowing.

“Well, I’ve been promoted to Admiral! Everyone’s guaranteed promotions in fact, and medals of valour are going to be handed out, the former Maquis are completely pardoned of course…” She went on but he only half listened. Part of him wanted to share her enthusiasm, her pride, but overall he couldn’t help but gather a pathetic impression. Would a promotion really settle her destructively restless sprit, fulfil her or any of them after more than two decades of investing heart and soul into this journey? He doubted it. “What are you thinking of doing?” she asked suddenly out of the blue.

“Anything’s possible now I suppose.” He responded sincerely.

“Yes it is.” She replied softly, looking down at her hands resting lightly on the console before bringing her eyes up to meet his. “Look…I know it’s been hard over the last few years…” Thirteen years Kathryn, you may as well say it, you observe anniversaries as much as I do. “…but it’ll get better…I know it will.” She looked at him with that familiar expression, the one he’d seen directed at Seven in the past and now at him, the one which asked for emotion. What exactly did she want? He was, as Seven would have said perfectly functional. He worked harder than ever, he hadn’t disrupted the crew in any way with his grief, hadn’t descended into alcoholism, his old dependence on anti-depressants and sleeping pills had lessened its grip to such an extent over the years that it now only reared its head very occasionally. No, he was fine, carried his burdens as well as could be expected.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be a new beginning…for us all.” He told her calmly.

Her shoulders visibly relaxed and she stepped back. “Good…I think so too.” With a quick glance at him she left and he leaned further into the console with a sigh, looking dreamily at the mixture of Borg and Federation controls before straightening and being caught again in the hypnotic power of this window into space. Sometimes he wished he could drift aimlessly among the stars and forget it all.

* * *

 

The shuttle jolted as it descended down between the lush green treetops of his home world. It was strange seeing it again but the sight didn’t give him the shock of pleasure he had expected. “This part of the planet has been mostly abandoned by the Cardassians, but be vigilant. You…may not like what you see down there.” He jumped at Icheb’s voice, who spoke while expertly piloting the shuttle.

“Yeah, I know.” He said quietly. It had been over thirty five years since he’d last been here after all; it was bound to have changed. The silence between them was uncomfortable, he knew that Icheb was breaking the rules for him; former colonists were not allowed to return here, even after the Maquis pardon. Changing the subject abruptly he asked, “How’s Annika?”

Icheb beamed a rare wide smile; his daughter was the apple of his eye. “She’s just started the first grade, the teachers had a bit of trouble with her though, she called arts and crafts irrelevant.”

“Her namesake would be proud.” Said Chakotay with a soft laugh.

“Yes…” Icheb replied with quiet sadness as the shuttle hit the ground, as he opened the doors he cautiously said, “All our former crewmates are asking for you, the ten year anniversary party…”

“Is not for six months. I’ll think about it nearer the time.” Chakotay replied distractedly as he lifted his small bag and began to climb through the door.

“Admiral Janeway worries about you, Tom and B’Elanna too…”

Chakotay let his feet hit the spongy moss covered ground. “I know.” He said with a slightly regretful sigh before suddenly turning to look back at Icheb with an unnervingly steady gaze. “She’d be so proud of you, you know that don’t you?”

Icheb swallowed hard, he of course knew which she he was referring to though it seemed a strange time to converse about her. “It is an achievement for a former Borg to be made a Starfleet captain…”

Chakotay gave a small smile. “I wasn’t referring to that specifically, you’ve worked hard at life and it has rewarded you.”

Icheb, never good with compliments, bowed his head respectfully but couldn’t form words of thanks instead changing the subject entirely. “I will collect you here at 1700 hours.” Chakotay nodded and set the alarm on his watch to remind him to give himself plenty of time to walk back, just past his seventy fourth birthday, his memory wasn’t what it once was.

The sight before him captivated him to such an extent that he didn’t really pay attention to the shuttle lifting off and disappearing into the clouds. Obviously his directions to Icheb had been accurate; this was the clearing just on the outskirts of his home settlement. The old sports goalposts were still standing, albeit bent and rusted, vines and undergrowth almost entirely obscuring them from sight. With a shake of his head he set off down the dirt track he knew by heart, allowing the dust his feet kicked up to nostalgically filter through his nostrils. In several parts nature had reclaimed the track, leaving it little more than forest, images of the townspeople meticulously chopping away at the roadsides, keeping it clear and smart, floated through his head. Those days were long gone, branches traitorously brushed against the track, weeds cruelly showed their overwhelming presence, his father had been right all along everything belonged to nature, everything it lent it eventually took back.

He was surprised at his lack of emotion as he entered the settlement, the homes that had been abandoned during the Cardassian onslaught still stood, striped of everything useful and lying in a state of slow disintegration. Why didn’t he feel anything? True, he’d always wanted to leave this place for somewhere more civilised and exciting, but he’d fought for the place hadn’t he? He’d lost people, risked his own life and what had it all been for? All that struggle and pain for a planet, for something that didn’t even matter…

The route of his own thoughts disturbed him deeply and he ran ahead blindly, only stopping when he tripped and looked at what he’d fallen over. Pavestones, his citified mother’s pride, the ones he and his father had spent almost two weeks laying. Broken, weed ridden and dishevelled, was that all that was left? No, there it was, a blacked shell, the charred remains of his childhood home exactly where he left them after fleeing the Cardassians, grieving for his father and nursing revenge. He stood up and looked around, his eyes scanning for the gravestones he knew he wouldn’t find. He been kidding himself in thinking he would find peace here, didn’t he know by now that home was not a place but a feeling? An idea that had been lazily drifting through his mind for years suddenly solidified and became a decision. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

 

His fingers excitedly dialled in the code, the doors slid open and he stepped in, he felt nothing. It was dark and cold, lifeless. Even the consoles, once constantly bright with activity, were dead, trapped behind the impenetrable layer of protective glass museums seemed so fond of. Not that Seven would have approved of spectators playing around in her lab anyway. Why did he still cling to that? She was gone and would never return here. He was alone, utterly alone. His hand tightened around the only object he had, his gaze travelling down to it nonchalantly. A Federation phaser, how fittingly ironic, he thought with a smile. As metal brushed his temple he stared at the view screen, perhaps the sight of space would give him a sense of perspective. No, it was deactivated, a black empty void in the wall. Abruptly a torrent of emotion, grief, rage, guilt, loneliness, happiness, relief… Everything came to him and then in a flash it was gone.

* * *

 

“ _The Voyager Museum is closed once again today to mark the funeral of the ship’s former First Officer, who took his own life on Thursday within the lab built by his late wife who also died tragically some twenty three years to the day…”_ Kathryn Janeway seized the remote and abruptly ended the newscast in full flow, leaning heavily back in her chair as the room fell eerily silent. There was nothing I could have done, I never understood him, either of them…

The beep of the telephone interrupted her self consoling thoughts and she rose to get it, eager for the distraction. The famous features of Admiral Nechayev appeared on the screen. “Good Evening Kathryn, you have my condolences. I’m sorry I was unable to attend the funeral.”

“Thank you Alyanna, but he was in a very dark lonely place.” Said Janeway quietly. “You’re still with the Klingons?”

“Yes, one in particular, he wants a Federation liaison but he’s so minor, the others consider him a witch doctor, they say he built a time machine…”

Janeway’s ears pricked. There was nothing she could do in _this_ timeline… “I think I have your liaison officer.”

“Really, who?” asked Nechayev in interest.

“Miral Paris. She’s only an ensign as yet but…”

“The Ambassador’s daughter? She could get a much more advantageous post…”

“I know her; she’d be perfect for it. She is part Klingon after all.”

“Alright Kathryn, I accept your recommendation. Tell her to pack her Batlef.”

Janeway laughed softly. “I will.” After a few more pleasantries the conversation ended and she lay back with a satisfied sigh, to hell with the Temporal Prime Directive!


End file.
